And on we walked. Suddenly we heard a voice crying, "This is the
sea. This is the deep sea. This is the vast and mighty sea."
And when we reached the voice it was a man whose back was turned
to the sea, and at his ear he held a shell, listening to its murmur.

And my soul said, "Let us pass on. He is the realist, who turns
his back on the whole he cannot grasp, and busies himself with a
fragment."

So we passed on. And in a weedy place among the rocks was a man
with his head buried in the sand. And I said to my soul, "We can
bath here, for he cannot see us."

"Nay," said my soul, "For he is the most deadly of them all. He
is the puritan."

Then a great sadness came over the face of my soul, and into her
voice.

"Let us go hence," she said, "For there is no lonely, hidden place
where we can bathe. I would not have this wind lift my golden hair,
or bare my white bosom in this air, or let the light disclose my
sacred nakedness."

Then we left that sea to seek the Greater Sea.